


December 24th

by hannibalnuxvoxmica



Category: Adam (2009), Charlie Countryman (2013)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, holiday fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2016-12-26
Packaged: 2018-09-12 10:23:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9067582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannibalnuxvoxmica/pseuds/hannibalnuxvoxmica
Summary: My contribution to the 2016 Hannigram Holiday Gift Exchange! Written for mizuvera!
Enjoy :D





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mizuvera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizuvera/gifts).



> My contribution to the 2016 Hannigram Holiday Gift Exchange! Written for [mizuvera!](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mizuvera)
> 
> Enjoy :D

Nigel is too fucking far from home.

It’s the middle of winter and he is still several blocks from the subway, unable to move any faster than his legs are already carrying him. The sun falls further with each minute that passes, the breeze now biting his skin. Nigel shoves his hands in his pockets, balled tightly into fists.

He hadn’t wanted to be out this fucking late. He had tried to tell the others that enough was enough, that business was over and his work here was done and he should already be halfway to the door, but somewhere between the second and fourth round of shots he lost all sense of time.

The buzz didn’t even last long enough to enjoy it.

Nigel keeps his head low as he passes through crowds, mostly swarms of drunks who have obviously decided to spend Christmas hungover and puking into their toilets. He keeps his eyes to the ground as he passes by anyone standing on a street corner, whether begging for money or offering a service. Nigel doesn’t look like the type of man you would want to risk walking up to or harassing, especially not at night, so most people (save for the drunks who don’t know better) pass him by without a glance.

A breeze rolls through and his coat does little to protect him from it. Nigel checks his watch. The hands read ten-to-midnight.

Fuck.

He knows Adam will have been waiting up for him. Even if it’s just a simple run to the grocery store for eggs and fucking milk Adam waits up for him. Nigel can only hope that he has fallen asleep and isn’t forcing himself to stay awake for Nigel’s sake. He is happier, after all, to have an only half-awake Adam greet him as he crawls into their already warmed bed, his sleepy voice pitched slightly higher than it usually is, as he is to have a fully awake but exhausted Adam greet him.

He sees the subway entrance just ahead and pulls out his phone. He listens as it dials once, twice, four times before going to voicemail. Perhaps Adam did fall asleep. Reluctantly he pockets it and begins down the subway stairs. The stale, musty smell hits him immediately. So does the music.

Nigel believes it’s a violin, but he never did know shit about music. He knew how to listen, and he knew by listening what he liked, and that education alone has been all he ever needed.

Even after spotting the man playing it (bearded, young, sitting cross-legged against the wall with a hat overturned in front of him) he isn’t sure what in the hell it is.

He just knows it sounds fucking beautiful, and that, for some reason, it makes him think of Adam.

Warm and patient and passionate and fucking angelic Adam.

God does he wish he were home.

The subway roars through the tunnel and screeches to a halt. Instead of boarding, he turns and approaches the musician, who in turn barely acknowledges him.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” Nigel says, letting a twenty dollar bill fall from his hand and flutter into the hat. He walks away.

Nigel takes the seat closest to the door and lets his head fall against the window.

Before meeting Adam, he wasn’t much more than a wanderer. He could go a week and never once sleep in his own bed or use his own shower. He learned not to keep food in his house - at least nothing that could spoil. The only meals he ate were either frozen and packaged in plastic or served to him in a brown paper bag.

Home was not a concept he was familiar with.

He blocks out the sound and the faces of the other passengers (of which there were few, thank god). To an onlooker, it may seem as though he had fallen asleep in his seat, and truth be told he wasn’t that far away from doing so.

Nigel exits the subway car when it reaches his destination, and from there he makes his way to the street. A small jaunt later and he’s standing in front of their apartment door.

Nigel fumbles for the key in this pocket. The lock clicks as he turns it, and with a heavy sigh he steps inside. Home. Fucking finally.

The door shuts behind him and he stands frozen in front of it, mouth slightly agape at what he sees.

Adam doesn’t notice Nigel or turn around, too swallowed by concentration to notice. Nigel watches as Adam stands on his tiptoes, attempting to reach the top of the already brightly lit and decorated Christmas tree.

“Adam…?”

This Adam _does_ hear this and he spins around, the star-shaped tree topper still in his hands.

“Nigel!” He greets him, surprised excitement in his tone. “You’re home. I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

Nigel walks forward, his eyes widened. “What’s all this, darling?”

Adam has decorated the entire living room. The tree, brightly and gorgeously lit, may be the centerpiece of the room, but is far from the last detail. Nigel takes it all in; the fairy lights strung across the walls, the red and green striped candles, the stockings hung over their fireplace (electric, of course).

It’s like a page out of some catalog but better. Not one part of it makes the room feel fake or unwelcoming. Nigel doesn’t feel like he has to tread carefully lest he ruin some part of it.

“You did all this?”

Adam gives a shrug. “I wanted to decorate while you were gone and surprise you,” a smile flashes across his face. “Did it work?”

Every complaint Nigel has ever thought or uttered about his life he now takes back. Every ‘fuck you’ he’s told to the universe or whoever the fuck is running it, all of the ungrateful, sneering glances and the heavy sighs just before downing his last ounce of bourbon, swallowing his sorrows and forgetting them in the burn of his throat.

He takes it all back.

He is the luckiest goddamn man on the planet.

“You more than surprised me, darling, you made my entire fucking year.”

Nigel cups Adam’s face with his hands and kisses him, and Adam grasps onto him for support with his free hand.

“This year ends in eight days,” Adam reminds him, unable to keep himself from smiling. He bites his lower lip when Nigel kisses his cheek.

“And you’ve made all of ‘em perfect,” Nigel tells him, snaring him around his waist, pulling their bodies closer. “And all of them after that, too.”

Adam laughs, leaning forward to rest his head against Nigel’s chest.

“I did it all of it except for the star,” he gestures as well as he can with the tree topper in his hand. “I couldn’t reach, though.”

Nigel flashes a toothy smile and glances at him. “I think there’s something I can do about that.”

“I considered a ladder, but since we don’t have one - Nigel!”

Adam protests as Nigel lifts him from the ground, high enough so he can see over the tree.

“See?” Nigel says. “Now you’re tall enough to reach.”

“I could have reached with a ladder!”

“This was easier, though. And fuck knows where you’re gonna find a ladder at this hour.”

Adam grumbles in response. He places the tree topper in its proper place and adjusts it before nodding for Nigel to put him down.

“It looks perfect, darling,” he wraps his arm around him. “Thank you.”

“I thought about baking cookies, but I think now they would be better if I made them in the morning,” Adam leans against Nigel, his muscles welcoming the weight taken off of them.

“How about instead of that,” Nigel suggests. “We worry about the cookies later, but for now…” he leans over and scoops Adam’s legs out from under him. “I carry you to bed.”

Adam lets his body go limp in Nigel’s arms. Exhaustion overtakes him, and he rests his head on Nigel’s shoulder as he is swept away.

“Merry Christmas,” Adam mumbles.

“Merry Christmas, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> [hang out with me on tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/hannibalnuxvomica)


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